


Meet the Parents

by oneawkwardcookie



Series: Requiem for a Dream [2]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, Biphobia, Eddie gets to go off at them but that's as good as it gets, Evan "Buck" Buckley Has Bad Parents, Homophobia, M/M, POV Eddie Diaz, Pain all the way down, Parents Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Racism, well more like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25940650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneawkwardcookie/pseuds/oneawkwardcookie
Summary: About a month after Buck's funeral, the Buckley parents make an unwelcome visit
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: Requiem for a Dream [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882651
Comments: 17
Kudos: 106





	Meet the Parents

**Author's Note:**

> In short, they're terrible people AND terrible parents.

It’s an unexpected phone call from an unfamiliar number, but Maddie always answers the phone.

“Madeleine?” With one word, she’s 16 again, sitting on her bed, barely able to meet her mother’s eyes as she has to explain why she was sneaking out of her room at midnight.

“…Mom?” She wants to believe it’s someone else, but no one else uses her full name, not least with such an emotionless formality. The confusion in her voice draws Chimney from where he’s moving around the kitchen, bringing him to sit beside her.

“Yes. Your father and I found out about your pregnancy and we will be coming into town tomorrow.”

There are a million questions rolling around her head, so she takes a deep breath, hoping her parents don’t catch the way her exhale shakes a little, reaching to squeeze Chim’s hand. “You don’t have to do that.”

There’s a beleaguered sigh on the other side. “What is your address?” Chimney squeezes her hand to get her attention, pointing at the floor whilst mouthing _'here_ '. She recites his address, confirming it as it’s read back in clipped tones.

“We’ll see you at 5pm then.” The dial tone is painfully loud as she remains frozen in position, until Chimney pulls the phone from her hand, setting it to the side. She lets herself fall into his waiting arms. 

* * *

It’s a daily occurrence, so much so that they’ve learnt the script to perfection, the parts they play in this cosmic tragedy, reciting their lines at the perfect speed and with just the right cadence to convince their empty houses that this is normal. It’s how he knows that today’s phone call is different; she doesn’t immediately launch into asking if he’s alright.

“Maddie, what’s wrong?”

He can hear the sob that she gulps back, before she replies through gritted teeth. “My parents are visiting tomorrow.”

He’s not sure what she expects of him, what they expect of him, what his interactions with them should be, let alone what their relationship even is. Shannon’s father had never been in the picture and her mother never came to the funeral or responded to his attempts to reach out to her afterwards.

Still, the rational part of him knows that he should make some sort of effort, if only to ensure that they never need to deal with them again.

“How long are they staying for?”

“I’m not sure, it’s all very…last minute, but that’s Richard and Margaret for you.” An anger curls round her last words, her parents' names sounding foreign on her tongue.

“Can you…invite them round to my house? You can give them my mobile number if they want to get in touch.”

There’s a stunned silence on the other side. He looks around the empty house as she replies, “are you sure?”

“We’ll speak tomorrow, Maddie.”

* * *

Maddie texts him the next afternoon to ask if he’s free that Sunday. He replies on their way back from a hectic call, shooting off a quick text asking her to invite them around for lunch. It takes 10 minutes for Maddie to message him that they’ve accepted the invitation. Her last text is “we’ll see you then.”

The house wasn’t messy before, because he’d never let it be and because the people who’d drifted in and out like ghosts had always left it tidier than they found it; straightening photo frames, putting away laundry, filling the fridge.

He still makes an effort, ignoring the way his bones ache after a long shift and throwing himself into pushing the mop around the floor, into scrubbing away at the shower floor, into polishing the windows until his arms are sore.

He jumps at the sound of knocking on the door, glancing at the clock to see that three hours have passed in a lemon-scented haze. He opens the front door to let Maddie and Chimney in, the latter of whom is laden with bags of food. Maddie walks in confidently and grabs a vase with her spare hand, heading into the kitchen and coming back to set the flowers on the coffee table.

Chim shrugs at him, and he just waves in the direction of the dining room and moves to put away the cleaning supplies and get changed. By the time he gets back, Maddie is sitting at the dining table, where all the food is set out, and there’s cutlery that he doesn’t recognize arranged in a way that seems too formal against the dents in the wood.

“Thank you.” He speaks to the room, to the floor, before making his way back into the living room to straighten the photoframes for the fifth time that day, fingers slowly tracing faces through the glass. He’s saved from his fretting by three firm raps on the door, knocking his heart into his stomach and making him fuss with his shirt, sweaty hands smoothing down invisible creases.

Maddie opens the door as he hovers two feet behind her. Her mother drops a quick kiss to her cheek, before walking around her.

“Mrs. Buckley,” he stretches out his hand, “Eddie. Pleasure to meet you.” He bites back the ' _finally_ ' that threatens to sour the sentiment.

“Eddie.” She ignores his hand, so he just points her in the direction of the kitchen.

"We've got lunch ready for you."

"We won't be eating here." She heads towards the couch, ignoring Chimney as they cross paths.

“Howard.” Buck’s father rumbles as he approaches.

“Nice to see you again.” There’s a curt nervousness to him as he reaches out to shake the man’s hand, his shoulders slumping as the other man drops a limp pat on his daughter’s shoulder and moves straight past both men to sit next to his wife.

All three share a weary look, before Maddie shuts the door. She takes a seat on the brown leather seat, propping her feet up on the small stool in front of her. Chimney balances on the chair’s arm, which looks almost as uncomfortable as he feels, and wraps an arm around Maddie – a gesture of mutual support. 

He lowers himself into the armchair on the other side, finding an aching comfort in the worn fabric, even as he leans forwards, elbows resting on his knees.

He sees parts of Buck in them and it makes it so hard to not reach out, but it’d be like catching a snowflake, like chasing shadows in a cave. It’s not real, it’s not _him_. But the blue eyes in the woman are so familiarly expressive, and he can see hints of the auburn curls between the greying hairs of the man in front of him.

“So, you were Buck’s…” There’s a heavy silence that follows her words, a slight wrinkling of the nose as the Buckley matriarch surveys the room with small shifts of her curious eyes.

“Fiancé.” The word seems small, paling in comparison to the vivid and all-encompassing nature of their relationship.

“I thought your lot were religious, I didn’t think they’d allow…” The older man's voice peters off, a vague gesture flung across the room at him.

“My…grandmother and aunt are in LA, and they’re very supportive. My whole family was at his funeral.” He’s going to have a headache at the end of the day, he can already feel it creeping in where his jaw is clenched and he’s grinding his teeth. He rubs a hand over his face, letting the ring glint in the sunlight in silent defiance. 

“How…progressive of them.” Her face is at odds with her words, and he can see Maddie’s nails digging into the wooden arm of the chair. 

“I hear you’ve already got a son.”

He feels a familiar smile play on his lips at the answer to the man’s question. “Christopher - he’s 12.” He points over to a photo on the mantelpiece, one that was taken on a warm day that spring. Eddie and Buck are flanking Chris, all three of them holding an ice cream cone of varying shades, sickly sweet and sticky-mouthed smiles painted across their faces.

Richard doesn’t bother to look at it, instead picking an invisible speck of dust from the arm of the couch.

“What about his mother?” It's like a tennis match, the relentless volley of questions from the pair of them, voices alternating and insistent, a harsh contrast to how gingerly they sit on his sofa.

He unclenches his fists to point out another photo further along the shelf to her, “she passed away three years ago.”

“You keep a photo her too?”

“She was my son’s mother, sir.”

“Were you married or –”

“We _were_ married, ma’am.”

“A proper marriage then.” It’s like Buck’s father has forgotten for a moment that he’s not in the privacy of his own home, muttering to himself during the lull in the questions that are being slung across the room with barely contained aggression. 

There’s blood in his mouth again. 

There’s no disguising her scoff as Margaret loudly whispers to Richard, “he always did have a type.” Looking back at him, she asks, “so, what had Evan been doing whilst he was here?”

Maddie makes to answer, getting only as far as “I already –” before she’s silenced with a single raised finger, the older woman’s eyes still fixed on Eddie.

“Since he…moved to LA?” He feels the frustration simmering. “Buck joined the LA Fire Department, helped Maddie escape and create her own life, got a place of his own, saved Chimney’s life…twice” – he ignores the older man’s wince at the nickname – “he helped me find help with Chris. And that’s saying _nothing_ of the lives he’s saved, both on and off duty. He recovered from a crushed leg and blood clots, he survived a tsunami and saved my son, _and_ he beat the record at the academy when he got recertified. He was a wonderful cook, a dedicated parent and an incredible first responder.” He’s breathing hard, feeling his eyes screaming ' _Is that enough for you two?_ '

“Well then, I suppose he managed…fine.” She’s interrupted by her husband. “Not the life he should have made, with all the opportunities we gave him, but you can’t make a man out of a mouse.”

Chimney remains uncharacteristically silent, a chilling coldness emanating from him as he mutely watches the parents of his co-worker, his friend, his _brother_ , listening to them callously disparaging their dead son. Maddie is also biting her tongue, although her eyes are flitting between him and her parents, growing redder with each moment.

It seems that, with Buck gone, all of his words, past and future, have made their way into his heart. He’s bursting with them, with the need to express every electric impulse of emotion that surges through him.

“Why couldn’t you just, for once, make him believe he was good and special and unimaginably worthy of love? How could you let your own kid think they weren’t worthy of your attention, of your love? You were his parents, you were supposed to love him unconditionally. That's what parents are supposed to _do_. You weren't supposed to make him think that he didn't have a place in your home because of who he _is_... was." He sees Maddie and Chim nod in sync out of the corner of his eyes.

"Say what you want about me, but you **_do not_** speak ill of him in this house. Buck was so generous, so full of love, and it was you two that made him think that was wrong, that filled him with shame and guilt that twisted him up inside until he saw his heart as a weakness. He told me what you’d say to him, the way you thought you could convince him it was just a phase, and then, when that didn’t work, how often you told him that he’d be disappointing you, that he’d be letting down the Buckley name, by not carrying on the legacy. Like the only way to carry on a legacy is to have a child, to live life the way you’ve lived yours? He already has a legacy.” He gestures around the room, catching the look of solidarity from Chim and the fierceness that burns in Maddie’s eyes. “We are his legacy. His life’s work is. You don’t get to decide that that isn’t enough.

You left him so alone for so long, he almost died so many times and not _once_ did you reach out to ask if he was okay. We got engaged and you ignored all of his calls, when he just wanted your approval, your love. You let him die thinking you didn’t care about him, you let him be buried without you present, without his own parents to mourn him. I mean, _do_ you even mourn him?”

He had hoped for looks of contrition, no matter how mild, but the judgement in their quirked eyebrows at his raised voice utterly deflates him. He turns his face away, twisting his lips to hold back the tears that threaten to burn down his face.

Maddie swings her legs round, dislodging Chim’s arm as she slowly stands and takes two steps forward. Only the coffee table holds her back from her parents.

“You need to leave.” 

If he was less heartbroken, he’d find it hysterical that it’s this comment that brings about a scandalized response.

"Excuse me?” comes the high-pitched exclamation from Margaret.

“If you have nothing nice to say, then you don’t need to be here.” She’s firm and fair, flipping the parental script on them in a way that makes Eddie’s mind flick for a second to the thought that she really is a wonderful mother.

“There are still things we –” She silences her father with a raised hand.

“We’ll be in touch.” There’s a bitter pleasure in the way her words are like a slap to their face, leaving one open mouthed and the other frowning.

They rise to their feet simultaneously, Buck’s mother casting one more judgmental look around his house, before following her husband who has already stalked away. The door is slammed behind them, leaving them all a little shaken.

"Good riddance." Chim's sudden words are harsh, drawing his and Maddie's attention to where he's stood next to the chair. "He doesn't need them - Buck already has his family."

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, or come say hi on [tumblr](https://oneawkwardcookie.tumblr.com)


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